


Bed-Knobs and Broomsticks

by almostblue (fictionalaspect)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-10
Updated: 2006-02-09
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/almostblue
Summary: This is the final installment in the series that began withA Spectator Sportand continued withSex on a Stick. It’s pretty long, so I’m posting it in two parts – look for the next part tomorrow or the day after.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Warnings: very, _very_ light bondage, crossdressing, a little kink – you know, the usual from me ;)  
  
Author’s Note: This is the final installment in the series that began with [A Spectator Sport](http://www.livejournal.com/community/harry_and_ron/303934.html) and continued with [Sex on a Stick](http://www.livejournal.com/community/harry_and_ron/310468.html). It’s pretty long, so I’m posting it in two parts – look for the next part tomorrow or the day after. Originally, I wasn’t going to continue this, but the response to the original two has been overwhelming and there were many, _many_ requests for a kinky trio!fic....so this is for everyone at [](http://community.livejournal.com/harry_and_ron/profile)[](http://community.livejournal.com/harry_and_ron/)**harry_and_ron** , because i luff you guys ♥  
  
And yes, the title is shamelessly ripping off the Disney movie. But enough of my rambling - on to the pr0n!  


* * *

“Hurry _up_ Ron – honestly, you have to be the slowest person I’ve ever met.”  
  
Hermione huffed impatiently. She continued walking at her usual break-neck pace, trying to juggle the mountain of books and papers back and forth between her arms as she searched in her bag for her timetable. Ron shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as he followed her, trying to figure out the best way to convince her to slow down so they could talk. He finally settled for stepping out directly in front of her, causing her to walk into him and drop her pile of papers everywhere. She glared at him through her hair, angrily brushing her bangs aside and bending down to gather everything together into a messy pile.  
  
“You could have just asked me to slow down, you prat, " she grumbled.  
  
Ron grinned lopsidedly at her as he reached out to grab an errant quill that had rolled a few feet away. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t have stopped. You would have said,” he paused, tossing his head and straightening his spine into an imitation of Hermione’s ramrod-straight posture – _Ronald, you know I’m behind in my studies and I have my arithmancy notes to colour-code and you really should be studying if you want to pass the text next week, and –_ "  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at his dead-on imitation of her voice. “Okay, okay. I get the point.” She straightened up, primly pulling at the hem of her skirt and accepting the quill that Ron handed to her.  
  
“Now, what’s so important you had to almost trip me to get my attention?”  
  
Ron’s eyes darted from side to side, making sure they were alone in the corridor. The late-autumn light sliced through his hair from the open window, making it glow an even-brighter red than normal. It gave him a halo of sorts, surrounded by illuminated dust motes floating in the air, and Hermione’s expression softened. Ron grinned at her, sensing that he was out of trouble and leaned in to press a quick kiss on her forehead. He smoothed her hair out of the way, tucking it behind her ear as he said softly, “it’s Harry.”  
  
She frowned worriedly. “What’s wrong now? Merlin, I wish he’d tell me these things himself, instead of hiding it from everyone except you.”  
  
“He _does_ hide it from me, Hermione. It’s just that I’m around him enough that I can still tell – but, anyway, that’s besides the point. There’s nothing actually wrong with him, not right now, anyway.”  
  
She raised one eyebrow. “So why did you bring him up?”  
  
Ron grinned at her wickedly. “You remember that conversation we had a few weeks ago?”  
  
Hermione bit her lip, trying to remember. “You mean about how you were trying to convince Fred and George to let you have some samples of their new ‘adult’ product line? Or…” her eyes went wide. “Ron…you didn’t…”  
  
Ron’ smirk only got wider. “Yeah.”  
  
She frowned disapprovingly up at him. “You know that’s not fair, Ron. Harry has enough to deal with without us having to worry about him suddenly realizing he’s been obliviated.” Her expression softened a bit. “I know it must be hard for you to wake up and hear him, but leave the poor bloke to wank off in peace. What do you think would happen if he realized all of his vivid wet dreams were really just you sneaking into his bed at night? He’d have a heart attack!”  
  
Ron’s eyes went wide when he realized what Hermione was referring to. “No, Hermione – no, well, I mean, yes, it’s a fantasy of mine, but I didn’t crawl into his bed and finish him off while he was having a wet dream, if that’s what you’re referring to. No, it was all Harry – he’s not as straight as we thought. Or rather, not straight at all.”  
  
Now it was Ron’s turn to watch Hermione become speechless. She opened and closed her mouth several times but nothing came out.  
  
“You…he…really? No spells? No polyjuice?”  
  
Ron shook his head. “No. You remember how he was sitting out of practice yesterday because of his scar?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Know what he was really doing?”  
  
She shook her head breathlessly. “What?”  
  
“Tossing off under the bleachers.”  
  
“No!” Hermione licked her lips. “Really? How do you know?”  
  
“Because I caught him.”  
  
“But…why? What was so important he couldn’t wait?”  
  
Ron ducked his head down, embarrassed. “Because…um…hesaidIlookedhotridingmybroo m.” he said in a rush.

“No!”

“Yeah. And um, we just went back to the dorm. And he was, er, staring, y’know, and so I just kind of…” he scratched his head nervously. “You’re not mad, are you? I know I’m supposed to ask before I sleep with someone else, but he was just right there, Hermione, and god, he looked so good and he was hard and I just sort of, well, you know…”

Hermione slapped a palm over his mouth, effectively silencing his excuses. She stared into his eyes, leaning in and running the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip.

“Ron. Listen to me. Are you saying that you slept with Harry? And that it was his idea?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go _that_ far…but he was certainly a rather active participant.”

Hermione shoved him back up against the wall, dropping her books and kissing him hard, effectively silencing any more protests. “Ron. I. And. You did. Harry..” she bit her lip. “I don’t care how you do it. But we need to. Together. I mean…”

Ron nodded, running his hands over her hips and down around her arse, pulling her deeper into the kiss. “I know, Hermione” he whispered into her ear. “Believe me, I know. You should have seen him, he let me tie him to the bed and he looked so delicious when I was stretching him with my fingers, all I wanted to do was just shove my cock down his throat…”

Hermione moaned, reaching down to run her fingers down the seam of Ron’s trousers. “Ron, stop. I have to go to the library. I’m not going to be able to concentrate if I have an image of you fucking Harry in my head.” She shuddered. “What do you think he would do if we propositioned him?”

Ron snickered. “Do you mean proposition as in ‘ask nicely’ or do you mean ‘show up in a corset, throw him down and fuck him’ like you normally do to people?”

Hermione giggled shyly, averting her eyes. “Probably the second one.”

Ron smiled down at her, brushing her cheek with his thumb affectionately. “I think it might be worth a shot.”

* * *

Ron ducked as yet another brightly coloured bit of lace flew over his head. He leaned back into the headboard of Hermione’s bed, adjusting his book on his lap as he did so. He wasn’t really supposed to be in Hermione’s private room – prefects, after all, were supposed to ensure the rules weren’t broken, not to break them themselves – but it had never stopped them before. Besides, sitting here and watching his 101 Best Wizarding Chess Games book demonstrate the Lindbergen Lock-Out of 1837 was a far sight better than sitting in the Gryffindor common room and watching Neville moon over Ginny.

He winced, both at the memory of Neville’s near-painful stuttering and the sight of one of Hermione’s shoes falling off the top shelf of her closet and whacking her on her head. She gave a surprised yelp and pulled her head and shoulders out, sitting back on her heels and rubbing her head angrily. Ron stifled a laugh at the state of her closet, which had robes, shoes, skirts, and other various articles scattered everywhere in one huge pile. She might be a verifiable genius, but laundry had obviously never been her forte.

Hermione turned, taking in the lanky boy stretched out on her unmade bed as she gave her injured head one final rub. She raised one eyebrow at his obvious lack of concern for what was, to her, a clear matter of life and death.

“Ron, you know, it would really make my life a lot easier if you could at least _pretend_ to help.”

Ron shrugged, his attention focused on the battle between the black knight and the white rook taking place on the open book in his lap. “I told you, Hermione. It all looks the same to me.” He waved one hand dismissively in the air. “I can’t tell any of it apart, anyhow. They all look like lacy bits to me. Lacy bits in different colours, mind, but other than that….” He trailed off, frowning as black captured two pawns using a modified Feinburg feint. “And I already told you, I have no idea what Harry would like.”

Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration. Honestly, what was the point of having all this gorgeous lingerie if Ron couldn’t even appreciate it? She’d tried explaining it all to him, one afternoon, pointing out that, for instance, a garter belt and a corset didn’t even look remotely alike, but his eyes had just glazed over and he’d stated that he didn’t give a rat’s arse what they were called, and that if she didn’t get naked _right that second_ he was going to hex the whole lot to Africa. And now, when she was trying to figure out how best to turn Harry into a stammering wreck, he couldn’t even be bothered to look up from his chess game.

Bloody Prat.

She frowned as she took in the heap of clothing on the floor of her armoire. This whole plan of seducing Harry had turned out to be harder than she’d anticipated. She’d tried dropping increasingly blatant hints in the past few days, but Harry was either completely oblivious to her innuendo, or still hesitant about the idea, despite his little tryst with Ron a week ago. She thought it was probably the latter, since Ron had not-so-subtly offered a repeat performance (subtle, in this case, being grabbing Harry’s cock in the changing rooms) and he’d respectfully declined. Right now, it all boiled down to the fact that she’d absolutely no idea what Harry would find attractive on her, and the success of her plan pretty much depended on him not running away screaming.

She took another critical look at the haphazard pile in front of her, frowning in concentration.

Okay, so _maybe_ the latex was out.

She sighed as she shoved her five-inch lace up heels into the “reject” pile, along with the corset. Too bad. She was fond of those. They did wonderful things to her posture. Oh well. Another time, perhaps.

That is, if she could ever get this to work out in the first place.

She tapped her finger against her bottom lip thoughtfully as she looked over what remained of the pile. That red velvet corset was out, definitely – it was meant to be a waist trainer, and passing out while trying to seduce your best friend would probably put a damper on the whole experience. She tossed it and the matching knickers to the side, resisting the urge to just throw them at Ron’s head. The fishnet stockings were probably out, too, even though they were Ron’s favorites. Even leaving out all the more daring outfits, though, it still left her a lot of options. She paused as a thought struck her.

“Ron? What’s Harry’s favorite colour?”

Ron hummed as he worried the end of his sugar quill with his teeth. “Um. Green, maybe?”

Hermione frowned. “That won’t do. The only thing I have that’s green is also black and silver, and I’d end up looking like one of Malfoy’s wet dreams.”

Ron smirked. “Why don't you do Gryffindor colours, then?”

Hermione grinned. “Ron, that’s perfect!” She grabbed a lacy red bra and matching knickers, throwing it on the bed along with a gold garter belt and old-fashioned silk stockings. Ron didn’t try to hide his amusement as one of the stockings landed on his open book, completely befuddling the magically-animated chess pieces. He tossed it to the side, smirking, and then had to duck as a pair of red and gold embroidered slippers came flying towards his head.

“Oi! Hermione, watch where you throw those things!”

“Sorry, Ron” she called over her shoulder, sounding completely unrepentant. “Maybe I’d stop throwing things if you stopped sitting on your arse and actually helped me out.”

“And how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?”

A pause. A slow, wicked smile.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Ron…”

“No.”

“But I haven’t even asked you to do anything yet!”

“I know. Believe me, Hermione, I’m perfectly aware of that fact. I’m also perfectly aware of the fact that the _last_ time you got that look on your face, I ended up in women’s underwear. And the time before that, you told me you had a present for me and I found a gift-wrapped riding crop under my bed. A riding crop that, might I add, you proceeded to beat _me_ with.”

Hermione looked at him innocently, fluttering her lashes. “I thought you liked it.”

“That’s not the point, Hermione! The point is, every time you get that look in your eye I always end up in some bizarre new situation. The fact that I usually have some sort of mind-blowing orgasm and spend an hour twitching afterwards is totally immaterial.”

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Ron groaned in frustration. “And the worst part is, I know that no matter what, I’m going to end up doing whatever it is you’re thinking.” He crossed his arms over his chest in a huff.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Boys. “Fine, fine. I’ll think of something a little less adventurous.” She paused, eyeing a box under the bed critically.

“I still think you’d look lovely in chartreuse.”

* * *

Waking up tied naked to the head of his bed wasn’t really in Harry’s plans for the day.

Not that it wasn’t rather welcome, but still. Not in the plans.

Actually, Harry thought groggily to himself, his plans had been getting rather bollixed up in general as of late. He tried to roll over and snuggle further into the covers, but he only managed to snuggle his head into his armpit, at which point the pulling on his arms reminded him that oh yes, right, he was still tied up naked to the bed.

At which point Harry decided it might be a good idea to open his eyes.

Maybe.

But the minute he opened them three things immediately became clear: that he was definitely, irrevocably _tied up naked in his bed_ (a fact that he’d rather been hoping would just go away if he ignored it long enough), that his glasses were on the bedside table and consequently out of reach, and that there were two fuzzy blobs hovering over him. Fuzzy, blurry blobs that looked and sounded an awful lot like Ron and Hermione…

“Oi,” Harry croaked out. “Ron, Hermione, give us the glasses, yeah? I can’t exactly move my hands, you know.”

Hermione made a surprised noise at finding him awake, then quickly slipped them onto Harry’s face, just in time for him to make out Ron’s smirk from across the room.

“A little tied up at the moment mate, are ya?”

“Shut it, you bloody tosser.” Harry growled. “I’m sure you think this is funny, but I’m not….” He trailed off, frowning. “Ron…what are you…Ron, are you wearing….lingerie….?”

**to be continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

  
Author's notes: the same warnings still apply, but seriously, folks. this is Smut with a capital S.  
  
Author’s Note: This is the final installment (really!) in the series that began with [A Spectator Sport](http://www.livejournal.com/community/harry_and_ron/303934.html) and continued with [Sex on a Stick](http://www.livejournal.com/community/harry_and_ron/310468.html). If you missed the beginning of this, you can find it here: [Part I](http://community.livejournal.com/harry_and_ron/365180.html). Originally, I wasn’t going to continue this, but the response to the original two has been overwhelming and there were many, _many_ requests for a kinky trio!fic....so this is for everyone at [](http://community.livejournal.com/harry_and_ron/profile)[](http://community.livejournal.com/harry_and_ron/)**harry_and_ron** , because i luff you guys ♥  
  
Author's Note (v2.0): this is possibly the porniest thing i've ever written, along with being my first-ever trio!smut _and_ the first time i've ever written rimming... *wimpers* ...it's the kind of thing that makes me want to run and hide, but oh well.  


* * *

Ron was rapidly turning the color of the bed curtains. He pointed frantically in Hermione’s direction. “It was all her, that bloody bint made me do it! Harry, you know me, I’m a guy’s guy…” Ron trailed off at a severe look from Hermione, who was busy with something in the corner. Harry almost felt sorry for him – he looked almost about to cry, the poor bloke -- until he remembered that he was still tied up naked, and that it was probably still Ron’s fault.  
  
Besides….Harry looked Ron up and down critically, thinking to himself _he looks pretty good in that, actually. What is that colour, anyway? Chartreuse?_ He shook his head at himself in bewilderment. _Chartreuse?_ He sounded like his aunt Petunia picking out fabric samples for the living room. Nevertheless, whatever colour it was, the slip made his legs look insanely long and well-muscled, and the greenish hue brought out the deep red-orange in his hair.  
  
Hermione noticed him eyeing Ron appreciatively and hummed to herself over in the corner. “See, Ron? I told you that was your colour. It looks lovely on you. There’s no reason to get all upset.”  
  
Ron just groaned and thrust his face into his hands.  
  
Harry frowned. “How come you two get clothes? Why am I the only naked one? And for that matter, **what the fuck is going on around here, anyway**?”  
  
“Oh.” Hermione had the good sense to at least pretend to look a bit guilty. “We were. Well. I just wanted to…you know….”  
  
Harry gave the scarf an experimental tug, craning his neck to see where it was attached.  
  
“Fuck me?”  
  
Her eyes gleamed at the suggestion, spoken so blatantly. “Quite.”  
  
Harry noted absently that Hermione was rather scary with that expression on her face.  
  
But then pretty much every thought was banished from his head in favor of all that blood going to his cock, because Hermione removed the sensible dressing gown she’d been wearing, only to be dressed in gorgeous, lacy underwear. The deep red of the bra and matching knickers made the flush on her cheeks all the more prominent, and the stockings….  
  
Harry swallowed hard.  
  
They were the old fashioned kind with the seams up the back and the thicker band at the top, held up by tiny gold bows, and she looked so much like the girls in those old dolly magazines that he’d found in the Dursley’s attic when he was 14 (and wanked to many, many times over, since no one would miss them) that he almost couldn’t breath.  
  
Hermione bit her lip, staring unabashedly at his now painfully hard cock. Her eyes twinkled at his rapt expression and she sighed with something akin to relief. “Good. You have no idea how much trouble I went to trying to figure out what you’d like, and _Ronald_ over there was absolutely no help at all.”  
  
Ron muttered something from the far corner of the room that sounded suspiciously like “I’m in _bloody lingerie_ , you twit. Of course I’m helping.”  
  
Harry nodded absently, still transfixed by her cleavage. Merlin, who knew she kept those behind those Hogwarts school robes? Harry found himself wondering if she taped them down or something. He was quite sure the last time he’d checked (approximately 2 days, 5 hours and 23 minutes, more or less) they were not quite so….impressive.  
  
Harry swallowed hard, making a valiant effort to make eye contact with Hermione and not with any of her girly bits.  
  
It was hard. He really was finding them absolutely fascinating at the moment.  
  
“So. Er. About that thing, Hermione--”  
  
“What thing?”  
  
“The. Um. Fucking thing?” his voice cracked a little on the last syllable and Harry blushed and was suddenly, insanely glad that this was Hermione and Ron and that they wouldn’t laugh at him. Probably.  
  
Hermione grinned broadly and shyly averted her eyes. “You want to?”  
  
“Hermione…” He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He used them to give her a Look and then stare pointedly at his crotch. “Have you seen the lower half of my body, lately? And oh, I don’t know, the giant erection staring you in the face?”  
  
She bit her lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes.  
  
Harry noticed approvingly that she’d also seemed to pass “Looking Coy While Saying Horrifically Lewd Things 101” with flying honors. Except his arms were starting to go numb.  
  
Right. “Hermione, is there any reason I can’t have some feeling back in my arms?”  
  
She looked up, shaking her head. “No…I guess, we just wanted you to…consider the situation before you jumped out of bed and ran away from us.”  
  
Harry frowned. “Why would I run away?”  
  
“You didn’t seem to happy with me the other day, mate – got us a little worried,” Ron put in from the far corner of the room.  
  
Harry nodded. In retrospect, he’d felt bad about that; Ron had inadvertently picked the one day in the past two weeks when he was actually suffering from a pounding headache. He’d been trying to figure out a way to make it up to him ever since his head stopped aching, but he’d met with little success. Until Hermione had, well, beaten him too it.  
  
Harry decided not to go into that, right now, in favor of _ohmygod one of you needs to touch me NOW or I’m going to scream_ but when he opened his mouth, what came out was, “Hermione, please untie me. I promise not to run away.”  
  
She looked into his eyes and nodded, reaching up and brushing against him as her small hands worked carefully and quickly at the complicated knots. The minute the scarves fell down, Harry reached his hands up and grabbed her, placing her firmly on his lap and feeling the new sensations of her warm, soft body on his lap. The lace on her knickers was delicately textured against his cock, and he thrust his hips up against hers and let out a sigh as she leaned up and traced the curve of his ear with her tongue, letting her small hands trails delicately over his torso. He vaguely heard someone suck in a surprised breath, but his whole world was consumed with Hermione – how she tasted, how she smelled and felt, lush and soft in a way that was completely unlike Ron . Harry found that he liked the change of pace, although he had a sneaking feeling the back of his head that if this wasn’t Hermione, his best friend, he’d probably feel a bit different about the whole affair.  
  
An exhalation of wet, hot air on his shoulder made him turn in surprise, and he found Ron sitting next to him on the bed, his cock already hard, tenting the slick fabric and leaving a smear of dark liquid around the tip. Harry smiled, reaching out to grab a handful of Ron’s thick hair with one hand while the other kept Hermione steady on his lap. He saw the faint traces of red still flushing Ron’s face and he leaned over, letting his hand trail down his silk-covered spine as he whispered _Ron, you have no idea how much I want to fuck you in that thing, to feel that silk up against my stomach while I slide into you from behind…_  
  
Ron moaned weakly and turned his head, slipping his hand around Hermione’s back to tangle his fingers with Harry’s. The kiss between them was rough, demanding, nothing like Hermione’s gentle ones, and Harry thought he might pass out from the sheer mix of sensations.  
  
He couldn’t honestly say he’d never thought of it before, but in his wildest dreams, he’d never thought it would be like this – fevered skin sliding and thrusting, Ron’s rough, calloused hands alternating with Hermione’s tiny, soft ones, the smell of her hair and the shape of her breasts and the taste of Ron’s flat, muscled stomach. Despite his earlier suspicions, there wasn’t any sort of rhyme or reason to it – he’d half expected Hermione to have colour-coded charts of positions or something, but this was just a wonderful, slippery mass of smooth skin and sighs and moans. At one point, Harry had Hermione straddling him sitting up, with her back to his front, absolutely entranced with flawless skin and the delicate curve of her spine. He’d twisted her hair up and pressed soft kisses to the back of her neck, feeling her press back into him as Ron licked and sucked at her between her legs.  
  
He’d felt her shudder and curse and then she’d quickly flipped herself over, so fast Harry had no time to prepare as she sank down on him, all warm and wet and clenching muscles. He could see Ron behind her as she rode him, pressing sloppy kisses on her shoulder as his fingers danced and pressed and stroked at Harry’s entrance.  
  
It only took a few minutes before Harry felt himself tightening up, his balls drawing up against his body as he bit his lip and tensed, rocking back and forth slowly, once, twice, as he spilled into her. It left him boneless and sated, and so he didn’t even think to protest when Ron flipped him over as he was catching his breath, turning him so he was on his knees.  
  
Harry was just about to wonder why, exactly, he was in this position when he felt Ron’s tongue.  
  
He bit his lip, lowering his head and feeling himself blush. Ron’s tongue was feathering up against his hole, and for a moment Harry stopped believing this was real – it was the sort of thing he’d always wondered about, wanked about a few times, but had given up ever actually expecting anyone to like him enough to want to put their tongue there. But oh, Ron was licking him with broad, flat strokes, teasing him and making the muscles in his thighs tremble. All he really wanted to shove was simply shove his arse back into Ron’s face, but he had a sneaking suspicion that would be rather impolite, so he settled for clenching his teeth and swallowing hard.  
  
And the noises – Harry had his eyes squeezed shut, but there were licking and sucking and wet sloppy noises and he could see, in his mind’s eye, the picture of Ron behind him, rolling and pointing his tongue to do – _that_ , oh god, right _there_ , pressing into him – and it was possible the most erotic thing Harry had ever experienced in his life.  
  
Until he turned around and saw that Hermione was preparing Ron, who was on his knees and moaning and grinding into his arse rather excitedly, so that Harry could fuck him.  
  
And Harry suddenly realized that he needed to update that list very badly.  
  
Hermione, meanwhile, was biting her lip, kneeling behind Ron and trying futilely to concentrate on what she was doing. But, she thought to herself, it was just so hard, because, well, Ron was her boyfriend and wonderfully fit and all but he was _on his knees eating Harry out_ and she could see Harry tensing the muscles in those thighs and clenching his teeth and his right hand straying to fist his cock, running the pad of his thumb over the tip and moaning and -  
  
She jabbed her finger in wrong, poking Ron someplace tender instead of someplace slick and welcoming, and he squeaked and brought her back to what she was supposed to be doing in the first place. She frowned to herself, trying to concentrate. She was supposed to be preparing him, not disemboweling him, for Merlin’s sake! She sneaked another look at the book in her lap, brushing Ron’s discarded lingerie off of it with one hand. Yes, now she was doing it right. And there was something just _there_ …  
  
Ron let out a muffled scream and pulled back from Harry with the absolute certainity that if Harry didn’t start fucking him right that second, Ron was never going to last and while Hermione’s fingers were nice and surprisingly strong (and where had she learned to _do_ that, anyway?) this whole thing was for Harry really. Ever since he’d caught Harry under the bleachers he’d been wanting this, wanking off to it at night, the image of Harry all taut and straining above him, thrusting in slowly and feeling Ron’s muscles clenching around his cock. And the slick, hot slide of him, deep inside, the kind of thrusting that would have Ron arching his back and thrashing and the sweat pouring off their bodies and Harry trembling above him, shaking and trying to stave off his release…  
  
Ron growled, reaching behind himself and shoving Hermione away, hearing her breathy moan of surprised at his forcefulness but being far too gone to care. Harry was peering back at him over his shoulder to see what all the commotion was, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.  
  
Ron just watching him, painfully holding himself in check as a single drop of saliva slid down his inner thigh, leaving a glistening trail on the soft, sparse hairs.  
  
And then he pounced.  
  
Harry’s look of utter confusion as Ron hauled himself up and laid down on his back beside him instantly became one of lust as Ron shoved him back, pushing him to sit back on his heels as he guided one of Harry’s hands to his dripping hole. He silent thanked Hermione for a job well done as Harry shoved two fingers in, feeling the sharp twinge of pain in his lower back and concentrating on pushing back onto Harry’s larger fingers. Harry gasped at the sensation and then Hermione was right there, slapping the bottle of lube into his hand before assuming her position against the headboard of the bed, thighs spread wide and head thrown back as she watched the boys.  
  
Harry almost winced as Ron quickly slicked him up, Ron’s rough fingers tightening almost painfully around his cock and jerking quickly in his haste to have Harry inside him. Harry managed a broken ready past a dry throat and raised Ron’s legs, stroking and grasping the smooth underside of his thighs as he slowly - _so_ slowly, Gods, Ron was going to die, he was going to die and they’d have to bury both of them together in an extra-wide coffin because there was no way in hell he ever wanted Harry to pull back out of him, even if he was dead, not when he was sliding slowly back and forth, in and out and _in_ and _out_ …  
  
Harry was gasping non-words through his bitten lips, syllables like _you_ and _fuck_ and occasionally the eloquent _Merlin, Ron, so **tight**_. He was gasping for air like he was drowning, but drowning in the best way possible, because drowning usually only involved being cold and wet and miserable and not this slick slide into Ron’s clenching hole until he was almost dizzy from lack of blood and oxygen to his brain. He could feel the sweat pouring off of him, dripping down the backs of Ron’s legs, mixing with the lube and precome in between their bodies to give that glorious wet friction, and pressing himself in deep, deeper than was probably safe or legal but then, _this_ wasn’t legal, the three of them, and Harry could feel Ron’s balls drawing up against his body and he dropped one leg, reaching blindly for Ron’s cock and quickly fisting him, watching the tension build on his face until he snapped, going rigid and spraying in between their bodies. It was that – the wet, hot feeling of Ron’s come on his chest, the straining muscles squeezing his cock – that did it for Harry, and he thrust and thrust and thrust until he saw stars, letting himself empty into Ron, feeling the tip of his cock spurt and jerk and oh Merlin he was _coming_ ….  
  


* * *

  
  
The loud _twack!_ of a textbook against his arse brought Harry firmly back to reality. He rolled bonelessly off of Ron, who seemed to be rather twitchy at the moment, and glared at Hermione.  
  
She just grinned back at him unrepentantly, letting the book fall out of her hands and on to the rumpled sheets.  
  
“What?”  
  
“That Arse. My book. I mean…” he shook his head. Words were a little complicated at the moment. He settled for a slightly-wounded, “That hurt, Hermione.”  
  
The minute the words left his mouth and her smile widened, he realized that probably wasn't the smartest thing to say. He quickly backtracked.  
  
“But. Um. Not in the good way.” Harry tried to look severe and intimidating.  
  
It didn’t work.  
  
“What’s not good?” Ron mumbled, face still pressed into the pillow.  
  
“Hermione. Er. Beating my behind with her book. Not good,” he repeated.  
  
Ron’s face popped up from the pillow, one eyebrow arched.  
  
Harry’s eyes widened.  
  
Ron smirked evilly. “I think it’s a _very_ good idea.”  
  
-fin-


End file.
